Why LGBTQ+ Education Needs to Start Before High School

I’ll never forget when my then twelve-year-old son Doran texted me from a slumber party where he was the only boy. “I came out to them,” he wrote. I asked how it went. “It turns out Molly* is abrosexual and Ava* is prob bi,” he replied, adding an emoji with tears of joy.

“So we had a big talk,” Doran continued. “I told them your idea about the club.” Later on that night, he told me, “I’m thinking that if someone asks or calls me gay, I say yes. Ava and I will stick together.” He said there were four LGBTQ+ students in the school that he and his friends knew of. In fact, he said, with another tears of joy emoji, Molly liked Elizabeth* even before she knew that Elizabeth was gay.

I admit, during this conversation, I had to look up the definition of abrosexual. It’s described as fluid sexuality. Clearly, some middle school kids are still learning who they are as Doran informed me months later that Molly now identifies as bisexual.

My husband and I had previously met with the public middle school principal and guidance counselor in our suburb of Pittsburgh to tell them that our son was gay. When we moved to this town 13 years ago, it wasn’t as diverse as it is now. The residents have become less homogeneous; the town is home to people of all nationalities and economic backgrounds.

Doran had already experienced unrelated bullying, so we wanted to ensure that everyone was alerted and ready should something occur. At that meeting, I inquired about starting a Gay-Straight Alliance (GSA) and was told that if the need existed, they’d consider it.

Now it was almost a year later, and there was clearly a need, but the request had to come from the students. And they were ready.

My husband and I had long suspected our son was gay. This hunch was confirmed several years ago thanks to my professional training. As a journalist of over 19 years, I decided the time had come to be direct. I asked my kids at dinner one night, “If you get married one day, do you see yourself marrying a man or woman?” When I noticed the funny look on Doran’s face, I asked if he wanted to talk. We then had a heart-to-heart on the living room couch; he said he’d known he was different in first or second grade.

We told immediate family members and his closest friends, but it wasn’t until the sleepover that he found the confidence to open his circle a little wider. He was still experiencing bullying at school, but now that he knew he wasn’t the only LGBTQ+ student, he felt less alone. There were kids who truly understood.

A few weeks after the slumber party, he impulsively came out to his whole lunch table. Whether consciously or not, he chose this way because of its strategic implications. Word would get around and there would be no turning back.

As it turns out, he got a text or two from kids — who didn’t sit at his lunch table — confirming the news that he was gay, and a classmate even approached him directly. These interactions were matter-of-fact. There was no real fallout that we know of. And this is how it should be, particularly when sexuality is but one aspect of identity. Any description of Doran would mention his love of music (he plays three instruments), video games, YouTube, Harry Potter, and cats before calling attention to his same-sex attraction. Doran may be small for his age, but he more than makes up for it in personality. This brown-haired, brown-eyed kid is silly, smart, creative, sensitive, and still hugs and kisses his mother.

Advertisement

Because of Doran’s sexuality, I’ve become more interested in learning more about youth LGBTQ+ issues. What I’ve found is that he’s been lucky, because LGBTQ+ students tend to experience pervasive harassment and discrimination, as evidenced in the 2015 National School Climate Survey conducted by the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network (GLSEN) — which has been conducting research and evaluation on LGBTQ+ issues in K-12 education since 1999. One of the conclusions is that school-based supports can make a difference.

The survey also found that the percentage of LGBTQ+ students reporting that they have a GSA in their school was higher in 2015 than in all prior survey years. While GSAs in high schools are more common, the good news is that the number of GSAs at the middle school level is also on the rise.

“The combination of … data along with anecdotal feedback and our professional experiences indicates that GSAs in middle schools — similar to GSAs in high schools — have most likely increased over the past 10 years,” GLSEN says, although “their presence greatly lags behind their presence in high schools.”

If need was any indication, this delay wouldn’t be the case. Due to increased societal awareness and equality legislation, kids seem to be coming out earlier. GLSEN says there’s a growing body of evidence to indicate this, and has noticed this anecdotally in its national support as well.

The kids from the sleepover may not have known that they were part of a trend, nor would they care. As they followed through on their desire to start a GSA, they asked a member of the school faculty if she would help them run it. She said yes. Next, they filled out a form, which the principal approved.

Everything was in place for the fall. Next came the planning. As the founders created slideshows for the first two meetings, feathers were ruffled when words were changed, edits were made, and hard work wasn’t acknowledged, but they got through it. I lost track of how many times my son presented the slideshow to family members.

Freddelanka

The next thing I knew, five preteens were chattering loudly and making a mess in my kitchen as they baked cupcakes for the inaugural meeting. The theme was rainbow, of course, which meant using food coloring and Skittles for decoration.

The GSA was publicized on the school’s morning announcements and in flyers posted around the building. On the big day, a middle-school parent posted a picture of one of the flyers in two neighborhood Facebook groups, saying she had questions about the club. The threads became heated, with a few posting about their belief in traditional marriage. Thankfully, the majority of responses were supportive, with people saying they were glad to hear about the GSA. Not surprisingly, the original poster subsequently deleted both threads. A mom messaged me privately to let me know that she has a gay son who’s now in his 20s who could really have used the club when in middle school.

The middle school’s first GSA meeting was a success, with at least 20 kids attending and half identifying as straight. Cupcakes were devoured, new acquaintances were made, and others made the shift from acquaintances to friends. There were kids all over the gender and sexuality spectrum.

The slideshow introduced the GSA’s mission and goals, and included a link to a supplemental website the kids created. The one at the second meeting was a game show that tested knowledge of gender and sexuality terminology. Attendance dropped by half — likely due in part to the club being held on a different day — but has remained steady since. The ideas seem to be borne from a combination of research and creativity, and there are plenty of additional GSA resources online for them to refer to. Throughout it all, the kids have run the show with very little parent involvement, aside from leaving a messy kitchen for us to clean.

Advertisement

Doran’s high from starting the GSA lasted for some time. It was his favorite topic of discussion. He wanted me to bring it up at our Rosh Hashanah dinner the day of the first meeting, despite having people he didn’t know at the table. He shared stories he was learning about fellow classmates’ parents being unsupportive of their gender or sexual identities; his sadness and frustration were evident. Both he and I have heard second or third-hand stories about transgender kids who desperately need support.

While it’s still too soon to determine the GSA’s impact on the school environment, several students in the club have heard derogatory statements from classmates. Karina, one of the club’s founders, says, “Lots of people use ‘gay’ as a curse word, and I’ve heard people say the GSA is stupid or people in the GSA should just kill themselves.” One of Doran’s friends didn’t attend the GSA after he was teased about going, but rallied to help organize the club’s participation in the town Halloween parade.

For the parade, the GSA members painted a rainbow banner and signed their names. Doran wore the rainbow flag he got from his first Pride parade as a cape over his costume. There was a small turnout from the GSA, both due to conflicts and lack of parental permission. David — a sixth grader who sports a hairstyle that’s long on one side and shaved on the other — showed up just in time to march with us; the other kids cheered when he arrived.

We were nervous about how the town would react to the kids’ presence in the parade, but we needn’t have feared. Three parents — including me and my husband — had planned to walk alongside for support, but were told everyone marching had to be in the middle of the road. As we were behind the color guard, our position was very visible. Many people clapped when they saw us, smiled, or gave a thumbs-up. Despite that, however, there were moments of complete silence. We encouraged the students to take advantage of those dead spots to hand out more Halloween candy to kids.

David, who we’ve known since he was little, had been an acquaintance to Doran, as our families are friends. But since attending the GSA, the boys have become true friends. David thought marching in the parade was great. “It made me feel like I was noticed for my sexuality which makes me feel good and different,” he says. He describes his hair as representing the boy and girl inside of him. David likes both boys and girls and is gender-nonbinary. He says the club has made him feel more comfortable with his gender and sexuality because now he knows others are going through the same thing. In fact, he’s known about his identities since third grade, but it wasn’t until the GSA had a How to Come Out meeting that he gained the confidence to come out to his parents.

Detractors to middle school GSAs may say the kids are too young to know their gender or sexuality, but those in the LGBTQ+ community can attest otherwise. Timing is irrelevant anyway, as the goal of the GSA is to increase knowledge, awareness, and understanding, as well as prevent a mental health decline. With the pervasive harassment and discrimination LGBTQ+ students experience, school-based supports like GSAs can truly make a difference.

Freddelanka

I reached out to Anna Watson via email to gain more perspective on GSAs. I heard through a friend that she helped create a GSA at her kids’ public middle school in Massachusetts. She says the existence of a GSA speaks volumes, as it shows that the administration acknowledges that LGBTQ+ students exist and should be cared for. “Whether or not an LGBTQ+ student chooses to attend meetings, the fact that there is a GSA in school has a positive effect on that student,” she says. “School staff benefit as well and may feel safer coming out to students, which in turn provides more adult mentors for LGBTQ+ students.”

Advertisement

Middle school is hard enough without being LGBTQ+. Many LGBTQ+ youth often feel alone; perhaps even “the only one.” A GSA in middle school is “one beacon of light that can quite literally save lives,” says Watson.

If trends are any indication, that beacon will turn into a searchlight. Vanessa Davis, former Executive Director of THRIVE, which helps nurture and empower schools in Southwest PA to foster LGBTQ-inclusive environments, has noticed an increase in middle schools starting GSAs. She says students are feeling more comfortable coming out at earlier ages, and parents and schools are much more willing to support their preteens. “There is definitely a great shift happening,” she says.

But a middle school GSA isn’t the same as a high school one. Because the kids are younger, they may not be ready to come out. It feels safer and more supportive to talk about social issues rather than personal ones, says Watson.

“Middle schoolers, especially younger ones, are a lot more comfortable talking about broader topics, such as equal rights for LGBTQ+ [people], learning more about LGBTQ+ history, etc. They also are probably more comfortable having a more structured meeting, like snack, check in, topic or activity of the day, closing circle.”

According to GLSEN, this age group may need more introductory conversations around LGBTQ+ identity and gender terminology as well as more support from the club’s advisor. Many middle school GSAs work toward improving the school environment by working on projects or running campaigns such as GLSEN’s Day of Silence, No Name-Calling Week, and Ally Week, or by hosting school assemblies to discuss LGBTQ+ student experiences and celebrate LGBTQ+ pride.

Doran’s GSA is still finding its footing. The four founders all have different ideas for the GSA, and they each want to do it their way. With the advisor’s help and suggestions from parents, they’re slowly making it work. Next semester, the youth programs director at THRIVE will attend several meetings for observation and guidance. In the meantime, the advisor has them working on a talk for the sixth graders. My hope is that at some point, the high school GSA will meet with the middle school GSA and assume a mentorship role.

Doran feels a sense of responsibility because he’s gay and can understand the issues that other LGBTQ+ kids have. “Hearing about all this [negative] stuff happening to other people makes me feel like I should be doing something,” he says. “That’s why I wanted to start a middle school GSA.”

*Pseudonyms have replaced real names for the sake of privacy.

Lisa A. Goldstein is a freelance journalist with a Masters of Journalism from UC Berkeley. She lives in Pittsburgh, PA.

them, a next-generation community platform, chronicles and celebrates the stories, people and voices that are emerging and inspiring all of us, ranging in topics from pop culture and style to politics and news, all through the lens of today’s LGBTQ community.